


I'm gonna tear into your soul

by annabeth_writes



Series: Jon x Sansa Mob AU [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, all sexy things, but incredibly necessary at the same time, inappropriate behavior at a funeral, not so casual discussion of murder as well, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-13
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2020-01-12 11:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18445511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: Prompt: Mob AU





	I'm gonna tear into your soul

**Author's Note:**

> Set up: Sansa and Jon have a past before she got involved with Joffrey and the Lannisters. The Starks had their own ~organization~ and Jon and the Stark siblings all worked with Ned inside of it. The Lannisters began taking out the Starks to take over their business.
> 
> Title: Desire by Meg Myers

When a hush fell over the room, Sansa knew that something was off. She was playing her role well, accepting condolences as she clutched a tissue in her hand to dab at her eyes every so often. The tears were real. The grief was real. Yet none of it was due to the body in the coffin they so recently buried. As she turned to look at the doorway to the expansive living room, her breath caught in her throat at familiar face that she saw. It had been years since their paths last crossed and he’d gained quite a few scars in that time. But then, so had she. The years had changed him but there was no doubt in her mind that it was Jon Snow that stood before her.

It was pure luck that no one recognized him. The White Wolf was well known by reputation but very few knew his name or face. Sansa was one of those few. To the rest of the gathered mourners, he was nothing but an impolite stranger. Cursing him in her mind, Sansa strode forward, knowing that it fell to her to diffuse the situation. His eyes fell upon her as she approached, taking her in slowly, from her loose hair to the black dress that made her skin look even more pale than usual. There was an odd glint in his dark gaze. Some sort of promise that sent a thrill down her spine. As angry as she was that he dared to show his face, there was an awareness deeply rooted within her that relished in his presence.

“Jon,” Sansa breathed out, just loud enough to carry.

She lifted her arms when she was close enough, throwing them around his shoulders. Jon met her easily, sliding an arm around her waist to pull her in close as she tucked her face into his shoulder. They fit together all too well, yet another thing that pushed her towards anger. The heat of it swelled in her chest, burning through her as she gripped him tighter.

“How dare you?” Sansa hissed out, ensuring that only he could hear.

His hand contracted in response, squeezing her waist before dropping away as she stepped out of his arms. Sansa turned her face away from him before their eyes could meet, tucking her hair behind her ear as she glanced around.

“Who is this, Sansa?” Serra Hardyng questioned, her tact failing her amidst red-rimmed eyes and a voice hoarse from crying.

“An old family friend,” Sana said with a forced smile, reaching out to grasp Jon’s arm.

She could feel his strength beneath her palm. The strength of a man that served a quick, merciful death to his enemies. Yet death all the same.

“How nice that he is here for you,” Anya Waynwood said, her smile soft and her eyes sharp as she looked between Sansa and Jon.

Sansa could do nothing but nod in agreement, her hand falling away as she stepped forward to embrace Serra. Their grief was meant to be shared, after all. For the next hour, Jon was a near silent fixture at her side. He haunted her every step like a shadow and spoke only when spoken to, offering the barest few details on how they knew one another. He was Robb’s closest friend. That was the totality of it. Only when everyone else was suitably convinced by her sadness did she spend a long few minutes staring silently at the large framed picture of Harry. No one so much as blinked an eye when she turned away, dismissing herself with tears upon her cheeks. Sansa knew that Jon would follow and so she led him to a rarely used guestroom on the far end of the large house, ensuring that no one hear them. She barely waited to hear the click of the door’s lock slide into place before rounding on him, his back hitting the door with a satisfying thump once she shoved him. Jon didn’t look surprised in the slightest, his jaw clenching tightly as he gathered himself. Straightening to his full height, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and stared her down.

“You have a lot of nerve, showing up here,” she said, glaring at him.

“Why is that?” Jon asked.

Sansa swallowed hard, shaking her head as she tried to ward of the always pleasing sound of his low voice.

“Do you think that I am a fool?” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. “That I am not aware of your reputation? That I do not know everything about you? Even if you do work for your aunt now.”

Jon’s eyes darkened as he took one step towards her, then another, as she quickly backed away from him. She needed the distance. Any proximity between them would be too much. Too familiar. Too tempting.

“And what is it you know?”

Sansa’s heart flipped in her chest at the challenge in his voice.

“You’re a killer,” she accused.

_All men are killers._

Sandor Clegane once told her so. Sansa knew now that he was speaking more honestly than she even understood then.

“Aye,” Jon said with a nod, his eyes flitting over her face. “But so are you.”

Sansa inhaled sharply, a shudder running through her. She could almost feel the blood on her hands, hot and sticky. No one would hear any apology from her, even if they could prove that she did it. Baelish deserved to die. As far as she could tell, Harry didn’t.

“He was my fiancé,” Sansa said, true tears springing to her eyes. “Harry and I were engaged and you killed him.”

Her voice broke as she spoke the words, finally admitting what she knew to be true. This time, Sansa did not back away when Jon moved closer, his eyes flashing with some indecipherable emotion.

“Did you love him?” he questioned, barely above a whisper.

Sansa’s eyes grew wide as she stared up at him, not expecting such a question. 

“I...” she trailed off, her words failing her.

Jon titled his head to the side, silently prodding her to continue. To state her love for the man she agreed to marry. Sansa dropped her head, inhaling shakily as she dropped her hands to twist her fingers into her dress.

“Tell me,” Jon urged her, lifting her chin gently. “Sansa-”

She let out a sob, pushing against his chest.

“He promised,” Sansa said, the truth finally falling from her lips. “He told me that he would take me home. You  _killed_  him.”

 The look in Jon’s eyes grew thunderous as the color drained from his face. She wouldn’t let him reach for her, twisting away from him.

“He was going to take me home!”

“He was going to sell you out!”

Sansa’s lips parted in shock, her hands falling limply to her sides in the wake of Jon’s outburst. He looked just as surprised as she felt, as if he didn’t mean to say it. Her heart felt as if it would beat right out of her chest, it was racing so quickly. She let out a small whimper, shaking her head.

“No,” Sansa said, her fingers running through her hair. “No, he... he wanted to take me home. He promised we’d get it all back. Everything I lost. We-we were going to...”

Jon pushed closer to her, his hands cupping her face as he forced her to focus on him.

“Three months ago, he got in contact with the Lannisters,” he said, staring deep into her eyes. “He was going to give you to them in return for money.”

Sansa stared at him helplessly, trying and failing to sort through what he was telling her.

“Three months?” she whispered, closing her eyes. “He proposed to me three months ago. I-I was going to leave him and he... he promised we’d get it all back. I don’t understand, Jon. I don’t... he  _told_ me!”

Jon leaned in, pressing his lips to her forehead.

“He lied,” he murmured.

Sansa shuddered, tears slipping down her cheeks and catching on his hands.

“You killed him,” she whispered, opening her eyes and tilting her head back to look into his.

Jon swallowed hard before nodding and she could finally see past his carefully crafted mask to the emotions she couldn’t identify earlier. Vulnerability. Fear.

“I will always protect you,” he said, refusing to break his gaze away. “ _Always_.”

Sansa stared at him, searching his face for any trace of deception. There was nothing there. Only open honesty. Suddenly the years melted away. The grief of losing her entire family. The pain she suffered at hands of the Lannisters. The fear she felt when Petyr had her trapped with him. The helplessness she felt through it all. It all faded as she looked into those familiar grey eyes and suddenly, she was the same girl that loved him all those years ago. She threw herself into his arms, pressing her lips to his. Jon caught her with ease once more, kissing her eagerly in return. Sansa felt as if she touched a live wire, her body coming alive at his touch. She didn’t even know she could still feel like this anymore. This part of her seemed all but dead before, yet Jon awakened it all too easily with his touch. His fingers delved into her hair as his tongue swept over her bottom lip, his body molding to hers. Sansa gripped at his jacket, parting her lips without hesitation.

In that moment, she did not care where she stood or who else was in this house. She didn’t care that she buried her fiancé that day or that she was kissing the man who killed him. All that mattered was Jon. They stumbled together, bumping into a desk in the corner of the room. Jon didn’t hesitate to lift her onto it, stepping between her legs when she let them fall open. They grew almost frenzied in their desperation, needing to get closer. As close as they could. Sansa broke away as her body grew more and more heated, breathing heavily as she yanked at his jacket until he let it drop to the floor. Jon kissed along her jaw, pressing his hand to her lower back to anchor her against him. Sansa whined at the feeling of his arousal pressed against her core, tangling her fingers in his hair and tilting her head back to give him more access. Jon didn’t hesitate to take advantage, kissing along the pale column of her throat and scraping his teeth over her pulse point.

“Oh  _God_ ,” Sansa whined as his hand crept up her thighs, pushing her dress up along the way.

When his fingers brushed over her panties, feeling the dampness already gathered there, she bit back a moan and rocked her hips needily.

“Tell me what you want,” Jon said, pulling away to look in her eyes.

Sansa chased his lips, kissing him deeply. A voice in the back of her mind told her that this was wrong but it was all too easy to ignore. It felt so right. She felt so  _whole_ , here in Jon’s arms. Kissing him. Touching him. Loving him.

“I want everything,” she breathed against his lips as he rubbed her through the thin fabric. “Please, Jon. I want you.”

Jon groaned, kissing her fiercely. When he pulled away, Sansa barely managed a noise of protest before he hooked his fingers in her panties. She lifted her hips, feeling beyond breathless as he dragged them down her legs and let them fall to the floor.

“Good?” Jon asked, keeping his eyes on her.

She nodded, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as he crouched on the floor in front of her, pushing her dress up to her hips. A whimper crawled up her throat as he turned his head, kissing his way up her thighs. Her head fell back as she braced her hands on the desk, her eyes falling closed as she felt his warm breath wash over her core.

“So beautiful,” Jon murmured, parting her folds as she shivered with anticipation.

“Please,” Sansa gasped.

She didn’t get the chance to say another word as he lightly traced his tongue up her slit. His moan vibrated through her as he wrapped his hands around her hips, dragging her closer all while he flicked his tongue over her clit, drawing a cry out of her. Sansa pressed her hand over her mouth as he ate her out eagerly, as if no time had passed at all. They were isolated in the house but it was still a risk and she couldn’t take any chances that someone might hear.

“Fuck,” Jon said, pulling away to gaze up at her. “You know how good you are? How sweet your cunt tastes?”

She arched her back, reaching down with her free hand to guide his head back to her center, needing more. He didn’t hesitate to comply, teasing one finger at her entrance as he licked around her clit teasingly. Sansa let out a low whine, gripping at his hair. When he closed his lips around the sweet spot, his finger slid inside her slowly and she arched her back, grinding against his mouth.

“Jon,” she whimpered, her hand falling away from her mouth. “Please don’t-don’t stop. God, baby it feels so good. So good.”

A second finger joined the first, pressing in and out of her slowly at first, then faster. Scissoring and curling and bringing her ever closer to pure ecstasy. Sansa moved unashamedly against his mouth, her eyes shut tight as sparks of pleasure and heat ran through her, all meeting in the same spot. The hot coil in her lower belly, growing tighter with each passing second. Her words dissolved into breathy moans and soft whines until she fell over the edge, waves of pleasure rolling through her as she came with his name a mantra on her lips. Jon didn’t let up, licking and sucking relentlessly until she shoved at his shoulders with a choking sob, overstimulated from his ministrations. As he pushed to his feet, she didn’t hesitate to meet him in another kiss, tasting herself on his lips and tongue. It only served to stoke the low flame that still burned within her. The desperation for more. Sansa reached between them to undo his pants as they kissed deeply and endlessly, passion too small a word for what they shared.

Jon groaned into her mouth when she slipped a hand into his briefs, stroking his cock. Sansa swiped her thumb over the tip where moisture gathered, teasing him with slow strokes of her hand as she shoved at his pants with the other. Jon had the presence of mind to grab his wallet before she could push them down completely, pulling away and shakily grabbing a condom from inside before tossing it carelessly to the floor. From that point, he didn’t even wait until his pants were past his knees, pushing his briefs down as well before hauling her as close to the edge of the desk as he could manage without pulling her completely off. Sansa pulled away as he tore the condom open, his eyes meeting hers briefly. There was an unspoken question in his eyes. The need to check in on her before they went any further. Sansa answered it as simply as she could, snatching the condom away from him. She carefully rolled it over his length, her body tingling with anticipation. Jon tilted her head back, kissing and licking along her throat as he brushed his fingers over her cunt again, dipping into her and teasing at her sensitive clit, clearly making sure she was ready for him, as if there was any doubt.

“Now,” Sansa commanded, guiding him to her entrance. “Fuck me, Jon. Please, I-I need you to...”

She gasped as he pressed into her, filling her so completely that she forgot everything but this. Her and him, Sansa and Jon, together again. There was no one else in the world who could make her feel this way. No one who could so utterly sweep away anything else that mattered. She gripped at his arms as he moved slowly, letting her adjust. Sansa didn’t hesitate to wrap her legs around his hips, gripping his hair in one hand as she gripped the edge of the desk with the other. Jon buried his face in her throat, his moans muffled as he picked up his pace and fucked into her more intensely. Each stroke of his cock, filling her and renewing her, was met with a rock of her hips. They moved as one, their bodies awakening the longer they entangled themselves together.

“I’ll take you home,” Jon gasped out, his lips at her ear. “I’ll do whatever you want, sweet girl. I’ll go wherever you want.”

Sansa trembled at his words and the deep emotion she could hear within them.

“We’ll take it all back.”

She closed her eyes, envisioning them side-by-side, ruling as her father once did. Merciful yet unforgiving. They remembered everything. They would always remember. And they would find others who remembered too. They would take it all back. She let the knowledge of that fuel her, her body burning even hotter for this man as he vowed to do what no one else could truly manage, all of it at her side. Not for the sake of power but for them. For what they lost.

“Don’t leave me,” Sansa whimpered, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. “Never... never leave me.”

“Never,” Jon echoed, thrusting into her hard and fast.

She gritted her teeth against the moans that rose in her throat, breathing heavily against his shoulder as her body inched towards another orgasm. As if he could tell merely by her change in breathing, Jon reached between them and rubbed at her clit, turning his head to claim her lips. Sansa kissed him ardently, wishing things were different. That there was nothing between them, not even clothes. That she hadn’t gone through everything before now. That she could have found him earlier. But this was what they had and it was enough. She could let it be enough, because Jon wouldn’t break his word like so many men had before him. None of those people mattered. Only this. Only them. Only  _him_. Sansa’s heart raced in her chest as she tipped over the edge once more, her pleasured cry muffled by his lips as she clenched around him. She knew that he was close when his hips stuttered and thrusted wildly, desperate for release.

“Come for me, Jon,” Sansa whispered, pulling away to kiss at his cheeks, his jaw, his forehead. “I’m here, baby. I’m here.”

He let out a hoarse cry of her name, burying his face in her shoulder as he rode out his orgasm, gradually slowing until he stopped completely, still buried deep inside of her. They didn’t move at all, their chests heaving and their bodies pressed so closely and entwined so tightly that anyone would have found it hard to separate them. Not that they would allow it. Sansa let out a soft sigh as Jon pressed slow, lingering kisses along her collarbone before lifting his head to meet her eyes.

“I meant it,” he said, reaching up to stroke her hair away from her face. “I’ll take you home.”

“Don’t,” Sansa said, though she knew he would follow through on his vow. “Don’t promise me that. Too many men have done the same.”

He didn’t look bothered, a small smile pulling at his lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her swollen lips.

“What should I promise then?” Jon asked.

Sansa pressed her forehead to his, breathing him in as she allowed her heart to feel the full weight of her emotions.

“Promise to love me,” she whispered, almost hoping that he wouldn’t hear her.

Jon let out a soft laugh, brushing his thumb over her cheek.

“That’s a done deal, sweetheart.”

For the first time in a long time, Sansa let her lips tug into a real smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think!


End file.
